-- Attached file included as plaintext by Ecartis --
-- File: Decay2.txt
-- Desc: Decay2.txt

Dr. Ren sat at his old desk, clutching a red coffee mug bearing the symbol of the Chinese Communist party under a grimy, greenish-brown layer of sloughed off flesh. Most people from the time before would have been revolted by the prospect of drinking 75-year-old instant coffee out of a mug ensconced in your own dead irradiated flesh, but this had been the norm for Dr. Ren for so long that he barely even noticed it. In fact, he noted to himself with more than a little shock, he'd become so accustomed to seeing the molten faces of his colleagues that when he first saw the two men he was repulsed by their smooth skin and bronzed faces. He knew the human mind could adapt to anything -- Dr. Xiao had done her graduate thesis on the fact -- but it was still creepy to feel it happen to yourself.



Dr. Ren placed his coffee mug on his desk.  Still 'his', even though everthing around it had been scavenged for parts or materials.  His home which had outlived the government which had commisioned it.  You had to hold onto things like that.  It helped him remember he was a man inside this irradiated husk. He stared into the drink, slowly watching a small gray sliver of his lip spiral and dissolve. 



He didn't know how long he'd been looking at that whorl of decay when he heard the moist, phlegmy noise of someone clearing his throat. He looked up, startled, to see Dr. Xiao standing in the doorway watching him. He forced himself to notice her features, if only to prevent himself from becoming any more accustomed to her. The irregular patches of hair dotting her skull, the exposed ribs on her lower chest, the fact that one of her eyes hung out of its socket, the leather strap holding her jaw on... he had to see it every time, he resolved. He didn't want to think it was normal any more. When he realized he was staring, he spoke.



"How long have you been waiting, Xiao?"



"Not long, Comrade. Got some news for you, but it can wait."



"No, no, go ahead." Ren thought of the malformed, lumpy cells dissolving in the Folger's Instant French Vanilla, thought of the heat rupturing their membranes and ending their mockery of biology. "I wasn't thirsty anyway. What's the latest news on our patients?"



"Doing well, both of them have restored to their original forms. The one who became the panda had some internal bleeding upon transformation, nothing too serious. The one who became Doct... the younger one had no physical problems. Neither of them remember about the last hour before being changed, but we knew that was going to happen. But, ah, that wasn't what I came here to tell you."



"Oh?" Ren tried to arch an eyebrow, even though he had lost them long ago.



"It seems they've attracted a friend. Heng has the security monitors working, you should probably just see for yourself."



***



Dr. Heng was buried in wires and cabling when Dr. Ren came into the disused, dusty security station, and all he did see was her spindly, green arm emerging from the mass of wires to wave at him.



"Sorry about the mess, Comrade, but it took some jury-rigging to get the old security system running. Cameras 308 to 315 still aren't working, I'm checking that out right now in case our guest wanders over there." She pointed to a black-and-white monitor in the bank of controls and terminals. "Anyway, you can look for yourself."



Ren did, standing over the controls rather than sit and lose the skin from his back when he got up. There he was, the third non-irradiated human to appear here in 2 days, obviously looking for someone rather than something. The man resembled the first two superficially -- average height, well-toned but not excessively large muscles, clothing a hodgepodge of various uniforms, animal skins, and strips of leather. This one had a bandanna keeping the hair out of his eyes, making him resemble some kind of post-nuclear karate warrior. He had a gun in his left hand, a revolver that peeked around every corner before he did. There was something about him... The first two that had come here were strong. He was strong... and also somehow fierce. Ren could see it in the few glimpses he got of the man's eyes. He was dangerous. 



"So," Ren asked, "Does he know we're here?"



"Not yet. He hasn't seemed to notice the camera, but he did try and disable the sentry guns when he came in. After he notice we'd drained off the power cells, he stopped bothering -- probably thought they ran out on their own. Do we tell our guests about him?"



Ren didn't want to, but didn't see any other choice. Everyone at the facility was issued a magneto-laser pistol, but that was decades ago -- most of them didn't work, and those that did couldn't very well be fired with any accuracy by the scientists here. No, it seemed that if the newcomer had ill intent -- and those eyes told Ren all he needed to know about THAT -- then their unwitting experiments would have to serve as their defense. 



"How long, do you think, until he finds the elevator down to Level 3?"



"Can't say. He's looking, but he keeps backtracking on himself and skipping rooms. He doesn't seem to have any sort of system for searching -- but he'll find it eventually. Twenty minutes?"



"I'm going to go talk with our patients. Call me when he reaches the elevator."



***



The panda's name was Saotome Genma, and his son was Satome Ranma. Ren decided to interview them seperately -- partly in the interests of not cross-contaminating the "specimens"'s recall of events, mostly because he was afraid they might gang up on him if they were both in the room with him. Not that it mattered, one of them was enough to break him like a pencil if they so wanted. That's why he chose to interview Genma in the dining hall: it was large enough he might be able to run away if things turned sour.



Genma sat across the table from him, staring at the white faux-wood of the table, never looking up -- and why would he want to, if all he saw was some kind of ghoul? He seemed pretty shocked, but also seemed to be recovering. This was good, the faster he accepted facts the faster he could move on, and the less chance he'd decide to take out vengeance.



"Last thing I remember... I was just sitting in a little room on a table, wondering why my hands were claws and my arms were covered in fur. Seems kind of like a dream, at least it would if I wasn't still sitting in here with a headache and, apparently, blood sloshing around on my insides. Before that, I was out in the jungle, cleaning up our campsite so we couldn't be tracked. So... I'm dying to know what's going on here, if you'd be so kind?"



Dr. Ren paused, wondering what was the best way to phrase it.



"There was... an accident. You and your son came here, we never found out why, but you did. There were some tanks here, from before the war... we don't know how or why, but you ruptured two of them. We heard the tanks blow, and when we found you..."



"...I was a fucking panda?" Genma looked up and met Ren's eyes, surprising him. "Truth is stranger than fiction, ain't it?"



Both men laughed, though neither of them should have.



"So, what was in the tanks?"



"Before the war, this was a research station -- Jusenkyo Biological Research Facility. That was one of our projects. The FEV."



Genma pulled a stick of unidentifiable meat from his belt and gnawed on it. "Well, I'd say your project worked pretty well. You get a raise?"



Ren laughed again. He didn't know if Genma was acting like this because he was in denial or because he had already gotten over the fact he changed into a panda, but either way was better than the way his son had reacted. "No, no, in the Glorious People's Republic of China, nobody needs a raise because everyone is equal. Besides, it didn't do what it was supposed to, and it fook us 537 tries to even get that far."



Genma arced an eyebrow. "People's Republic of the what now?"



Ren was confused, then realized that in the 80 or so years since China ceased to exist, records of it probably had been lost as well. Being as he spoke with a Japanese accent, he probably wasn't from China -- and wouldn't know about its prewar history. Ren decided to give him the short version. "It's what this country was called, back before the war. Anyway, the FEV--"



"Wait wait wait. You were alive before the war?" Genma studied Ren's face. "Yeah, yeah you look about that old."



If Ren still had noticeable capillaries in his face, he would have been blushing with embarassment. "It was something about all the radiation that made us... like this. Falling apart, but growing back just about anything we lose."



Genma nodded. "Truth is stranger than fiction." 



"Anyway, the FEV had some very strange effects in its last formulation. We were trying to emulate something the Americans had," here Genma cocked an eyebrow, and Ren answered his question before he could ask it, "they were another country from before the war, across the ocean. All you need know of them is that they were very powerful and we feared them. The Americans had a substance that greatly enhanced the physical abilities of anyone injected with it, and since we thought they might attack us, we wanted some as well. We couldn't get it right."



"So instead you got Automatic Panda Juice."



"Yes, well, in a way. The FEV didn't seem to do anything to the first lab animals we exposed it to, and we would have given up on it until a lab accident made us realize that it wasn't inactive, it was *calibrating* itself. Whatever animal we exposed to it would transform into whatever the FEV was first exposed to. It seemed to work with anything -- people, goldfish, rats... pandas. We made a lot of batches, calibrated to anything we could get our hands on. We stored them in the tank room you ran across. Then the bombs fell, and there wasn't any reason to open the tanks any more."



Genma nodded. "And you thought that nobody would come down here again, so you didn't bother to destroy them." Ren nodded. "But, if it worked so well, why didn't you use it on yourselves instead of becoming... well, THAT."



The question took Ren off guard; it was a perfectly logical one, but he hadn't thought about it in so long that the possibility of it being asked had never crossed his mind. "Uh, it, uh, the FEV doesn't work on us, because our DNA is too, uh, corrupted." It was a lie -- Ren suspected Genma would kill him if he knew the truth -- but the man seemed to accept it. 



"Well, that only leaves one question, doesn't it? How did I turn back?"



The science of such an answer would be lost on him -- in fact, Ren didn't fully understand it himself, as it seemed a physical impossibility -- so he opted for the short answer. "Heat. Cold to turn into a panda again. You'll usually need water to get the right heat transfer, but if the temperature's extreme enough, or if there's significant background radiation, you won't need it." He paused, then added, "I wouldn't change too often. You might get internal bleeding, and you'll forget everything that happened an hour before the change. We... didn't have time to fix that."



"Well, Doctor," Genma said as he rose from his seat, "it's been surreal talking to you, but me and my kid have got to hit the road. I'm supposed to be training the little tyke, and he's not learning much in here. So, if you would be so kind as to show me the exit, we will go on our way."



"Wait! Don't go yet. We need your help."



"And I don't need to give it, but go ahead anyway."



"There was -- you were followed. Someone else is in the facility right now, someone with a gun, and I doubt he means anyone in here well. We can't fight him off, but if you can -- we can't help you with the FEV here, but can lead you to someone who can."



Genma paused, thought. "Hibiki, no doubt. He's after me and the kid, but God knows what he might do to all of you. I'd have to fight him sooner or later... all right, lead me to him."



***



Ryoga Hibiki knelt and drew his pistol as soon as he heard footsteps. He was certain the Saotomes were in here, and if the sound wasn't one of them, it was someone who could lead him to them. He shuffled as silently as he could to a doorway, crouching on the other side and peeking out just enough to see whoever was coming. 



Genma muttered to himself as he stalked through the too-shiny metal corridors, looking for the Hibiki kid. Coward, the boy was, a coward and stupid, striking out at him because the real target of his hate was too dangerous, never taking the hint to give up no matter how many times he was beaten. Luck and luck alone had kept him alive so far, but soon that luck was going to run out, and Genma would be quite satisfied when it did. 



Ryoga heard "little shit-for-brains" from the far end of the room and knew who it was in an instant; that coarse, crass voice could come from no other man. He ducked out of the doorway and brought the revolver to bear, firing six shots with such speed they seemed to blur together into a single burst.



Genma heard the hammer of the pistol being drawn back, and knew he'd found his target. Time slowed as he entered a battle-fugue, giving him just enough time to leap out of the path of Hibiki's attack. What Hibiki had in speed, he paid for in accuracy, and Genma could hear the KA-TANG-KA-TANG-KA-TANG of the bullets impacting with the metal wall mere millimeters away from his receding feet. He hit the floor and rolled, coming up just in time to block a kick with his forearm. The blow came like a swift hammer, Genma gritted his teeth as the vibration from the impact ran up and down his forearm, incapacitating it for a few precious seconds. Before the nerves in his arm even registered that Ryoga's leg was no longer touching  him, he'd already used the same leg to throw two snap kicks at Genma's face. The first went high on its own, and Genma slid under the second as he struck at Hibiki's other knee.



Genma's blow knocked Ryoga off-balance, sending him to the ground, but it failed to blow out the knee as Genma had intended it to. Even in his prime, Genma was nowhere near as fast as Ryoga was now -- he wondered if his speed was natural or if the boy had trained to be so, and if so, if that training could be applied to his son as well -- so instead of pressing the attack from this disadvantageous position, Genma got to his feet, standing in a loose, relaxed non-stance, waiting for Ryoga to strike.



Ryoga took to his feet, wiping the sweat from his brow and gritting his teeth. The instant he was fully on his feet, he lunged. He didn't size Genma up, didn't consider the situation, he simply dove for his foe's gut with the speed of a striking mongoose. Genma, expression still one of casual disinterest, took the blow to the gut, disregarding the sharp pain of the blood in his stomach stirred up by Ryoga's fist, then grabbed the striking hand as it pulled back, yanked it over his shoulder, and brought his fist to meet Ryoga's solar plexus as it came toward him. Ryoga's eyes went glassy, head went slack, breath came out of him in a gust and rushed into Genma's face; it stank of burned meat and blood. With Ryoga stunned, Genma used his free arm to pepper the kid's gut with punches, one strike after another landing on the soft, undefended flesh of his belly. Ryoga's face looked like he would be grunting in pain, but he lacked the breath to make the sound. 



Genma brought his knee up to strike Hibiki's groin -- something sure to take him out of the fight no matter his pain tolerance -- but he found too late that the boy had already regained his wind. He saw the glimmer of a smile cross Ryoga's face, and the glass in his eyes become triumphant malice, but even in his battle-trance he was too slow to counteract what came next. Genma's foot was kicked to the side, this time throwing Genma himself off-balance. The old man brought up his arms to block as he spun, but he seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Ryoga's fists soon found purchase in his chest, gut, face, neck. Each muted "thud" of knuckles against skin came so quickly they seemed to flow together into a dull hum. Each time Ryoga brough back his fist to hit again, a thin streamer of blood came with it.



/Let him trick me. Getting old. Stupid. Can't let him do it again./ thought Genma as Ryoga struck him again and again, his body slowly falling to the ground as the boy pummeled it faster than Genma's eyes could track. It hurt, and a great deal at that, but Genma had learned long ago that knowing you hurt and actually feeling the pain were things that could be separated. The older man crashed to the ground, finally, and Ryoga stopped punching him long enough to kick him once, then spit on him. Genma didn't move, even as the warm, stickly blob landed on his face.

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